A Tale of Two Hoods

He had grown used to the howling. Adrian pulled the green hood over his blond hair as the wolf howls reached a crescendo. The chorus of shrill voices could be heard every night, even inside the city walls. As a child, he could remember sneaking into his mother’s room, afraid that the wolf pack was just outside the bedroom window. Adrian could hardly remember his mother’s face, but her words from those nights still reverberated in his ears.

“There are times when we have to fight, and times when we should run away. Embracing your fear is the only way to know the difference. If you hide it away, eventually it will bubble up to the surface in your dreams or your sweat or your tears. And then you won’t be able to fight, and it won’t matter how far you run.”

“But how do I make the fear go away?” he had asked.

“It never goes away, Adrian. Only madmen and monsters live without fear.”

Monsters. Adrian would be hard pressed to think of another name for the creatures who howled out in the forest. He was fully grown now at twenty years old and he believed in monsters more than ever. Once they had been wolves, or so the stories said. Of course, there were some men who claimed they were still just animals. Men who claimed that any stories of talking wolves or the witches who cursed them were just that, stories meant to scare children.

But Adrian knew better. He had learned the difference between bedtime stories and monsters long before he joined the Rangers. As a boy, he had seen these wolves with his own eyes. They had ignored his small frame as a child, but now at nearly six feet tall and ripples of muscle running across his arms, Adrian could pose a threat to anyone. Not even a monster could disregard him now. By the time he came of age and joined the Rangers Guild, he knew better than most Kolorians that the wolves were very real, and so was their fabled power. Tonight, someone else was about to learn the same lesson.

He held his breath and listened to the wind. Out in the Kolorian Forest, the wind was seldom an ally. A careless traveler could spend hours following the smells of street vendors carried on the wind, hoping to find Kolor’s gates. A clever trick, but one that typically only worked on foreigners. Kolorian street vendors only served the inner neighborhoods and the docks at night, avoiding the poorer, eastern side of the city that faced the forest. Every self-respecting Kolorian knew better than to stray away from one of the paths, no matter what scent came upon the wind. Even the skeptics weren’t eager to deal with wild boars or grizzly bears. Adrian wasn’t worried about running into those creatures tonight though. They knew enough to steer clear of the howling pack when they could. Adrian, on the other hand, was closing in.

He’d been out on his second patrol when the howls first started. At that point, he’d paid them no attention. The chorus had filled his ears every night of his life, and tonight had been no different. Babies on the outskirts of Kolor learned to sleep through the wolf calls and fathers learned to wake up in their absence. For a generation, the Rangers Guild had roamed the Kolorian Forest, protecting travelers and tending the wildlife. But the forest had a new master now, and his hunger threatened to consume his woodland domain and everything in it. Adrian would confront this creature and his horde, as he had twice before. Then, as now, he wore his Rangers uniform. A deep green tunic fit close to his form, with a dark seaweed colored hood extending from the shoulders. Green pants the color of summer leaves and mud-colored boots completed the forest camouflage ensemble.

Yet, the clothes weren’t the only component of the Rangers’ uniform. Any overzealous fool could dress up and fumble through the darkness. With each breath his chest expanded against the taut string of his wooden bow. The bow hung tight around his torso, pressing against his tunic in the front and his full quiver of arrows in the back. A true Ranger never embarked on a patrol without at least his bow and arrows handy. Adrian normally hid a number of other weapons throughout his person. A hunting knife on his belt, smoke pellets in his sealed pockets and a smaller pair of knives shoved down each shoe. Most things that crept along in the Kolorian Forest knew better than to tangle with a Ranger, but only a fool came unprepared.

Even if the average predator decided to lurk in the area, Adrian would be out of reach. He sucked in a gulp of air as he swung himself from one tree trunk over to another, using his momentum to push across open air to a third. There were some Kolorians who saw the Rangers scaling trees and labeled them as mystics. The thought brought a sour smile to Adrian’s face. If the Rangers had magic power, their job would have been a thousand times easier. He grabbed hold of a branch with his left hand and brought his knees to his chest. In one smooth motion he launched into a backwards somersault that carried him across a gap of more than a dozen feet. Leaves and twigs brushed across Adrian’s face as he came upright and landed on another branch. No, their swift movement had nothing to do with magic, and everything to do dexterity, strength and the right touch of madness.

He shimmied up the tree trunk and the smell of pastries and sweet tarts filled his nostrils. He savored the scent for a moment before taking his next jump. When he set foot on the tree in front of him, another round of howling rang out. But this time, Adrian heard something else beneath it. A woman’s scream. It didn’t surprise him to hear the cry for help. Most convoys carried enough weapons to ward off roadside robbers. Most convoys had enough people to scare off the wild animals. No convoy was ever quite prepared for the creature called Maugoru.

They had been warned about the consequences of arriving after dark. By now, the whole world should have known about the dangers that lurked outside Kolor’s walls. But the world was filled with cheap merchants too lazy to charter ships. And so, every year travelers braved the trek over the mountains and through the forests, only to find Maugoru and his pack waiting for them. Sometimes, the pack would simply wait for night to fall and pounce, ripping through soldiers and peddlers alike. Other times, their methods were far more sinister. As Adrian swung forward, he took one more deep breath. The smell of candies and cakes hung sticky in the air, and tickled his empty stomach. After a hard day of riding through the summer heat, a man would be hard pressed not to follow such an assortment of smells. But Baron Harkley and his convoy had been warned.

The wind blew into Adrian’s face, an unnatural remnant from a current controlled by Maugoru. For years now, the beast had called the wind, and the wind had answered. In the forest, a man could hardly tell if a gust of air came from the natural world or at the whims of this demon wolf. The elders claimed that Maugoru had been cursed by a witch, but the Rangers knew better. The city of Kolor had been the one cursed, cursed with Maugoru’s presence. The wolf used his magical affliction for all manner of mischief, from deflecting arrows to luring unsuspecting travelers into traps with sweet smells. He could hardly be called cursed.

There were some men who believed the Rangers’ warnings but ignored them anyway. Men who wanted to go looking for Maugoru to test their swords against him. Many a fool had spent hours after sunset scouring the forest for the wolf pack, only to get lost amongst the trees and the darkness. Then they would hear the howls, and Adrian imagined they realized the truth. They were never hunting Maugoru, nor was the Beast hunting them. It couldn’t be a true hunt if the prey never had a chance to flee. Adrian’s Mother had gotten it wrong all those years ago. Monsters needed fear just as much as everyone else. It was their greatest tool, and they couldn’t live without it.

Screams of abject terror bounced around in the air. They curled up Adrian’s spine as he got closer. He crouched in a treetop, hovering over a scene of chaos. Twenty people flailed around, trying to avoid the gnashing wolf mouths at their feet. These were Baron Harkley’s people. They carried no flags, and their convoy was on fire, but they had clearly come with the Baron. Their clothes, though torn and dirtied, were still rich enough to mark them as members of an entourage. They were nicer than anything Adrian owned, but they would provide no protection from the horde that was tearing them apart. Most of the guards were dead, if the Baron had thought to bring any. The fool should have known better than to stray from the path.

Adrian was still unseen by the survivors of the convoy. Survivors may have actually been too liberal a name for the men and women illuminated in the fires of burning tents. The wolf pack was still on them, and Adrian estimated he could save maybe a dozen people, if he got lucky.

He reached behind his back and pulled his bow from around his torso. The familiar curve of the wood eased his mind a bit as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes scanned the underbrush, silently taking stock of the scene. Then, a flash of silver slithered past the corner of his vision. Adrian notched an arrow, releasing it an instant later. The projectile soared away, disappearing from sight before he could blink. Shooting moving targets was another Ranger skill that common folk liked to attribute to magic. But this skill was far more dangerous. Magic was not something for novices and children to go playing at, but at least certain spells and charms could be undone. The Ranger’s art, on the other hand, required a level of certainty. Your mind had to be made up, even before you found your target, because the moment you hesitated, was the moment an ally died. And that could never be undone. A moment after the arrow disappeared, a pained yelp brought a satisfied smile across Adrian’s face. He drew another arrow and scanned again.

Most of the Rangers feared Maugoru and his pack. Occasionally, the older Rangers would regale new recruits with tales of their encounters with the beast. All of these recollections carried a level of embellishment that was common to stories spun by men past their primes. Many of them felt they had earned the right to embellish. Any of the other guilds in Kolor would gladly let Maugoru and his fiends feast on the Baron. Not the Rangers. They had served as the proud stewards of the Kolorian Forest since the institution of the High Council, and they took their duty seriously. That meant protecting the roads into Kolor and skirmishing with the beasts that encroached upon them. It meant embellishing tales of their own valor from time to time. And, it also meant that reinforcements would arrive in the next couple of minutes. He just needed to stay calm and contain the wolves as best he could manage.

He loosed another arrow into the darkness. Another feral cry of pain met his ears. By now, everyone still alive had been pushed into a circle of firelight at the center of the convoy. Most of the twenty or so men and women clutched makeshift weapons in their hands, branches or broken wheel spokes. One man held a crying toddler in his arms. Dark forms crept to the edge of the light. Adrian drew another arrow, and prepared to shoot again. Movement drew his attention to a branch in the corner of his eye.

Without thinking, Adrian rolled from his perch. Claws raked through the air where his head had rested a second earlier. As he fell, a bundle of fur and teeth slammed into his side, knocking the wind from his lungs. He jammed his bow into the gaping maw of a grey wolf, just before it chomped down on his neck. They fell together, twisting and struggling, seconds, leaves, and the world flying by. They crashed into another branch, sending Adrian, the wolf and the bow in three different directions. The beast and the weapon fell into the darkness below, while Adrian managed to cling to the branch with his right hand.

He should have expected the wolves to flank him. A typical pack would have been forced to retreat under the threat of his aerial assault. Instead two wolves had silently scaled his tree and nearly taken his head off. He looked up and narrowed his eyes. The first wolf had fallen back to the earth, but the second was slowly making its way back down, its eyes hungry and its mouth dripping with saliva. Adrian let go of the branch. He fell for a few feet before he grabbed hold of the tree trunk, the bark scratching at his arms. He then started shimmying his way down, hopping onto branches and brushing through leaves. A short jump brought him to the next tree over, and as he knelt on a branch, he pulled his hunting knife from its sheath. The second wolf was closing in.

He waited for a moment, pretending to watch the rest of the pack. Then, he spun on his heel and slammed the knife into the lunging wolf’s neck. A wave of hot, rancid breath blew into Adrian’s face. The beast lashed out with its claws, catching the Ranger across the chest. The wolf’s momentum carried them both out of the tree and spiraling to the ground. He dislodged the knife and slid it back to the beast’s neck, and its claws dug deeper. Adrian’s back hit something hard, but instead of bouncing off of the earth, it gave way beneath him. They slowed, and then finally crashed into the ground. He expected to black out from the pain, but, instead, Adrian was still able to move.

He blinked and tried to breath, only for his lungs to spasm as they took in smoke. His eyes watered, and his mouth went cotton dry. Fire burned all around, consuming the world. Adrian pulled his hands up to his mouth and rose to a crouch. He rushed forward, only to trip over something heavy. Instinct took over, pulling him into a roll before he could smash his nose.

The fire intensified for a moment, and then a burst of cool air hit his face. He opened his eyes and looked behind him. A large carriage smoked and crackled as it burned. Just inside the carriage lay a dead wolf, the same wolf he had stabbed moments earlier. A sequence of events began to form in Adrian’s mind as he wrenched the knife from the wolf body. The carriage roof had taken the brunt of their fall, caving in when hit with a human and wolf body. Then, Adrian had tripped over the dead wolf in his haste to find clear air. Meanwhile, the rest of the pack made its move against the survivors. Instead of standing together, the fools broke and ran. As one defensive unit, they would have bought each other valuable time. But fear had robbed them of their wits, and pushed them away from each other. Right into the waiting jaws of the pack.

Anger rose in Adrian’s chest he watched them bolt into the darkness. He was about to make his own retreat when a tiny scream broke through the clamor. The little girl from before had broken away from the adult protecting her. One of the wolves had picked her out as dinner. Adrian wheeled around on his heel, eyes scanning the ground. His bow was the only chance he had at saving the girl, but he needed to find it first. His hands ran over charred grass and rough earth, frantically searching for the wooden object that could deliver the toddler to a few more moments of safety. The tip of his pinky finger brushed something, the string! He snatched the bow off the ground, nocked an arrow and fired. It slammed into the wolf just as it began its pounce. The creature yelped and twisted in mid-air, flailing away from the girl. She turned and ran, right into the open arms of another Ranger.

More arrows sliced through the darkness, announcing the presence of Adrian’s allies. Rangers hopped down from trees and stood between survivors and slobbering wolf mouths, firing arrows right down their throats. The engagement shifted from a massacre to a battle to full-on wolf retreat in a matter of seconds. Adrian fell right in line with his comrades, loosing arrows into fleeing wolf hide. As the wolves fell back, some of Baron Harkley’s men started to cheer. The shadow of a smile crossed Adrain’s face, only to fade as quickly as it started. The smell of sweetbreads and candies was gone, replaced by smoke and blood. Based on the cheers and satisfied faces, no one else realized the impending danger they faced.

“Raise your bows!” Adrian yelled. “Bows up!”

At first, his yelling was met with puzzled looks. Then the other Rangers began to notice the same shift in the air that Adrian had. Some of them nocked arrows and pointed them into the tree tops. Others began ushering the civilians away from the convoy, back towards Kolor. The little girl started to cry again. Adrian wondered if her tears were for the fallen men and women around her, or if the girl sensed the doom that was to come. A single, piercing howl resonated from the trees. The high pitched voice brought the wind with it, and suddenly a gale force gust kicked up in the clearing. The flaming carriages and tents glowed with greater intensity and the stench of smoke grew overpowering.

“He’s here! Fall back!” Someone hollered.

Adrian ignored it all. He fixed his gaze on a particular spot among the trees, one of just the right size and shape. He drew a single arrow and rested it against his knee. By now, the wind had grown so vicious that there could be no mistaking the malevolence guiding it. Plumes of black smoke flowed upward, framing around the section of space that Adrian stared. He raised his bow and pulled back the string, arrow ready to fire.

Slowly, Adrian was beginning to realize that he was the one who had been cursed. Of all the Rangers, he alone believed he could kill the monster. And so he alone was cursed to try. His mother had been wrong. All of Adrian’s fear had left him long ago, wiped away by the bitter wind. A hint of silver flashed behind the smoke, but Adrian held fast to the arrow. Tears streamed freely down his face as his eyes struggled to deal with the inferno blazing around him. Finally, Maugoru arrived. He jumped onto the exact branch Adrian expected him to, a hungry snarl on his lips.

The Monster’s golden eyes were the only things brighter than its silver pelt. Somehow, both shined with more brilliance than the fire that raged below. Yes, Adrian’s mother had gotten it all wrong. Madmen knew fear, in fact, they knew it better than anyone else. They knew exactly how others used it, and they knew enough to never let it touch them.

Adrian shot the arrow right at Maugoru’s heart. The beast opened his mouth, and the wind howled for him.